The End

Oct. 22nd, 2011 12:12 am
thulcandran: (Default)
We have all been stumbling around all day, now. It seems like the day will never end - I know for a fact that it's been noon forever, and the sun shines brighter and hotter every moment. Nobody speaks anymore, but it's not because we can't. We just don't know what to say. I don't. I want to reach out, to give him a hug, to pat her on the shoulder - I recognize him, over there, I used to pass him every day on my way out of the house, at the corner, waiting for the bus, but even though he looks like five more minutes without a shelter will kill him, I can't figure out whether I should or not. I mean, I should. I know the whole story, my own, theirs, it's written on everyone's face, but I can't bring myself to go give him my coat. Or lead him into the shade, the building behind him would do.

This is not how it ends. This is how it is, this is not how it begins but this is how it has always been. We don't know each other's names, we don't know each other's hearts, but we see the whole story in the eyes, and we look away out of fear. We don't speak, anymore. It's too open. It's too frightening, it's too vulnerable.

I know why I'm here, anyway. I was looking for my captain. He led us through the breach - my friends and I, we all thought we were following him, but when we got to the other side, we looked around as though we'd all become strangers, and I don't even know why, we all knew each other all the way through, it was when we reached our goal that we balked. And they're looking at each other, now, wondering who is the leader. Who was he? Where was he? Why did he go?

There was a time - I mean, ideally, maybe - we all led each other. That was how it worked. I could see when someone needed a drink, and I brought it; my friend could see when someone needed shade, and there they would go; my brother knew the names of every person he saw, and how to call them away from the edge; his friend could see the fires in the dark.

But we're all headless now. We're all leaderless, we're all homeless hopeless helpless wanderers, and nobody knows why. There's a missing place within, and nothing to fill it - we're all looking for a friend. We all need help, we all need life, we all need shade and water and friendship and language and silence and something to tie our rags over the gaping wounds we sustained at birth, and no one is there to do it, and we cannot see ourselves, we cannot catch but glimpses of the shadows on the ground that follow us, like knives in the dark, like stabs from the light that probably isn't truth.

The buildings, empty, loom over us like a colossus, judging. We made them. Someone made them. Someone tore them down. Someone rebuilt them. I rebuilt them. You watched. We helped. They stole, they took, they built, they paved, they created, they made, they destroyed.

There is a ghost within me, there is a spark within you, there is a light that binds us all to this empty city where the future died.

This is the monster that we flee; this is the apocalypse that we fear; this is the destruction that we built; this is the end, this is what we could not stop by any means of war or defense. This is how it ends; this is who we are; this is what we've done.

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thulcandran

May 2013

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